


Biscuit.

by HowWeGotHere



Series: Mixed Fandom Prompt Writing [3]
Category: Cobra Kai
Genre: Gen, nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:42:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28745655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowWeGotHere/pseuds/HowWeGotHere
Summary: Oh...Well..I failed to follow the prompt.Eh.
Series: Mixed Fandom Prompt Writing [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106375
Kudos: 1





	Biscuit.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh...  
> Well..  
> I failed to follow the prompt.  
> Eh.

He hated the ice on the lake.  
It reminded him of how fragile the world was.

Then again, he had came here, alone this time, and it was the middle of the goddamn night.  
And anyone who knew him, would have asked him what he was doing out here. 

He couldn’t sleep. His phone was buzzing, and he was too anxious to turn it off, to stop checking his email, that was mainly filled with shit from forever.

He could miss something important about anything, about the kid, about his daughter, about Robby.  
So now he was here, cold, staring at his phone. 

There was someone on the other side of the lake.  
He couldn’t make out their features, he couldn’t tell.

But they weren’t disturbing him, so he wasn’t going to use some of his remaining bits of person, the bits that hadn’t been torn and burnt, leaving him as a fast disintegrating pile of ash and failing foundation, to talk to them.

Fuck them.

Amanda was at the hospital and she was sitting next to Sam.

She hadn’t let him sit there, obsessing, with every second pulling him closer to break-down.

He couldn’t tell if this was better or worse.

He was perfectly fine, he was fine, he intellectually understood that, but he couldn’t see past the anxiety that spilled out of him as twitching and fidgety fingers, with clenched muscles and the inability to see anything past his phone.

He was still here, his kids were still here, everyone was fine, fucking fine, but he couldn’t- he-

The figure was still. Maybe sleeping.  
Maybe dead.

He didn’t really care.

He leaned forward, and tumbled, almost dropping his phone into the lake. Onto the thin, thin ice.

He was on thin ice.  
With everything from life to anxiety to it all.

Something flew at his head.

He caught it, only barely, but he did. 

It was two cookies. Two Bicoffs to be exact. Intact. There was a note. 

You loook miseble and it’s for in the mornig so eat this and stopp being a pussy.

He reread it, mistakes and all.

Fuck poisoning. He ate them, his attention temporarily dragged way from his phone.

That moment of clarity, where the anxiety was compressed enough for logic to be audible again.

He finally stood up and left, not waving goodbye, because he was scared that if he looked back he would end up back at the lake, scrolling uncontrollably.

He drove away, the figure still in his mirror.

In his defence, he didn’t know it was LaRusso he was throwing the cookies to.  
He also hated Biscoffs and didn’t know why he had them in his pocket.  
He still doesn’t know it was LaRusso.  
But he had been sitting on the other side of the lake, still as the dead, his mind a nuclear bomb explosion site and if he had to keep watching the guy on the other side look so damn pathetic, he would have lost it.  
He was drunk, yes, but, his son had just shoved his fucking student down the stairs.  
And Kreese... well...  
Kreese was going to push the kids, the kids he had promised to help, into molds of monsters.  
Everything was shit.  
Everything.  
He had already done enough damage to the kids, he had knew it like he knew the crazed look on Miguel’s face when he beat up Robby back at the All-Valley.  
Kreese was going to break them into pieces and then try to make them soldiers out of the ruins.  
He wanted to shake them, to tell them that the loser he was, the loser he had been, that was what they were headed to.  
He couldn’t though.  
Shit, they would probably kill him before letting him talk to them, especially as they were now.  
He wouldn’t have listened either.  
“Look where No Mercy leads to.”  
He whispered under his breath, almost too quietly for him to hear it himself.  
And then he had almost just shattered when he looked up to see the shaking person across the lake.

So, yeah, despite neither knowing who the other party was, he threw the biscuits. Scrawled the note, and then had watched the other person calm down.

He still would have through it even if he knew it was LaRusso.  
He had a heart.

He scanned the streets for the person.  
As if there would be a hint of them.  
But there were only faces staring at Daniel.

Faces in the street.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, did anyone guess this whole thing was made off me being stumped with the prompt ‘Faces on the street’ so I thought of how often we use cookies as symbols of friendly-ness and goodwill on the internet, and I wanted to expand that goodwill into a fictional piece of writing based of other fiction, which is based off... guess what? Other fiction!
> 
> Anyone guess?
> 
> No one?
> 
> Ok.


End file.
